


It Comes Back To Haunt.

by welovethebeekeeper (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John Watson, Case Fic, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:05:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/welovethebeekeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Wilkes is being stalked, he asks Sherlock for help. What appears a simple case will become personal for the detective. Fluff as always, some porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since the Blind Banker episode, I have wanted to avenge Sherlock's pain at the hands of Sebastian Wilkes. This fic is an attempt to do just that.

“John, I need to move my arm.”

 “Mmm? “ a sleepy voice replied.

 “My arm! It’s numb, move off it.” Sherlock’s tone was a tad agitated. As the doctor did not respond, the detective promptly shoved and pulled, resulting in a jolt that woke John.

 “Hey!! Mind my head. It is attached to my neck.”

 “You can be utterly selfish in your preferred sleeping positions.” Sherlock shook his arm in the air to restore circulation. 

 “Oh that is rich coming from the man that sprawls across me nightly, usually with his arm a dead weight across my throat! You could suffocate me and not know for several hours. So do not throw stones about sleeping positions.” There was a huff to John’s voice and he turned his back on Sherlock.

“What about your right knee?” Sherlock’s voice elevating in pitch, “do not ignore the fact that you repeatedly lock it over both my legs, then proceed to twitch it randomly all night in an irritating fashion.”

 “My knee spasms on occasion, I have no control over it.” John turned around to lie facing Sherlock. ‘Your feet, on the other hand, are _deliberately_ rubbed up and down my legs.” 

 “If I am cold!” 

 “No, all the time!”

 “Then I shall stop.” Sherlock turned to face John, a haughty expression on his face. John started a smile, it insinuated itself into a grin, which in turn grew into a giggle. “Shall we just stay on our own side of the bed from now on?”

 “No. I wouldn’t like that, or be able to sustain that rule.” Sherlock softened, “I like being...entwined.”

 “Me too.” 

 A sound drifted up from the downstairs hall, Mrs Hudson greeting someone at the door. John and Sherlock looked quizzically at each other. Then the close of the door and heavy footfall ascending the stairs.

 “Mycroft?” John asked his bed partner.

 "No. Not Lestrade either. Client?” Sherlock strained to hear. “Best go see.” He swung his body around and stood up, pulled on a pair of PJ bottoms, a tee shirt and his blue dressing gown, and strode out into the hall. As he crossed the kitchen he saw a man standing by the window. “What do you want Sebastian?” Sherlock was not pleased to see his former university acquaintance.

 “Good morning Sherlock. Your landlady let me in. Told me you were up here, but I didn’t realize you were having a sleep in. Keeping late hours? The rest of us poor sods were up and at it hours ago.” The banker mocked in his tone and facial expression. “Sleeping at..” Sebastian looked at his watch, ‘ten thirty must be nice.”   

 “Not sleeping, shagging actually.” John came up behind Sherlock. He grinned pointedly at Sebastian, reached out and gave Sherlock a squeeze around the waist for emphasis, and then took a seat in his armchair. Sherlock’s mouth fought the smirk that was trying to form, but lost. The detective perched on the arm of John’s chair. Sebastian looked dumbfounded, a bit embarrassed and thrown.

 “Oh!” Was all the banker could manage.

 “I repeat; what do you want Sebastian?” Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and waited for a response.

 Sebastian gave a nervous cough, pulled himself together. “Need to engage your services old boy, seems I have a stalker. Nasty notes, weird gifts, now a death threat, highly unpleasant, probably an ex, bunny boiler type, but need to stop it. So thought you could discover the identity for me.”

 “I don’t take domestic cases. Tedious. Far too much sentiment involved.” Sherlock was dismissive. “Sorry Sebastian but no.”

 “I would be more than prepared to match the fee the bank paid you a few years ago.” The response was swift and carried a hint of desperation.

 “Why?” Sherlock asked. “Why would you pay me thirty thousand pounds to find an ex lover of yours? There is more to this that you are not telling me.”

 “No. No, I just need the harassment to stop. I am getting married in three months and I don’t want the stress to affect the wedding. Plus I don’t want things to escalate. There is no telling whether this lunatic may actually try to carry out the threats.”  Sebastian appeared anxious. 

 “No. Sorry. Goodbye Sebastian. John shall we return to bed?” Sherlock stood and turned to face John. John grimaced and mouthed the words; ‘thirty thousand’ in an incredulous manner. Sherlock rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

 “Is there anything you can tell us that may alter our interest in the case?’ John’s view of the banker was blocked by Sherlock, so he leaned, determined not to let thirty grand be dismissed from the flat.

 “Well, the interesting thing to me were the gifts. They were all items I once owned, or identical items, from my teenage years. Things long gone from my possession, but all meaningful in various ways.” Sherlock turned, his attention piqued. 

 “These items. I need to see them. At your flat I presume?”

 "Yes. I can take you there now.” Sebastian had a glimmer of hope.

 “No. We will meet you there at one. Text me your address. Once I have examined the items I will give you a decision about my involvement. John will you show Sebastian out?” The detective crossed the room to his desk, sat and opened his lap top, the meeting at an end.

 “Right. Thanks.” The banker looked relieved. “OK, then, nice to meet you again Doctor Watson. Congrats and all that on your...well whatever this is; _relationship_.”

 “What ‘ _this is’_ Sebastian, is two people finding their soul mate and life partner.” Sherlock spoke without looking up from the computer. “I don’t expect you to understand. What with marriage number four, or is it five, on the horizon,and an ex stalking you with intent to kill.”

 “OK, let me show you out.” John gestured to the door. The banker nodded and made his exit.

 “Insufferable as always.” Sherlock sighed as John reentered the room.

 “I am so glad you deigned to at least look into the case, thirty grand is a lot of money.” John started to make tea and toast. “He is a git but a rich one. I don’t have a problem taking his money. You’ll probably have it solved by tea time, not a bad days wages.”

 “Maybe.” John was surprised at the voice suddenly close to his ear. The detective had managed yet again to appear at his side without apparently moving. “Thank you for the shagging bit, the look on his face was priceless.”

 “I owed him one. That time we met in his office, when he was being an arrogant patronizing bastard towards you; I always regretted how I acted. But we were still new and I wasn’t sure about things. Now...now I won’t let him get away with a single put down. I may even snog you senseless in front of him if the occasion presents.”

 “Not subtle but could certainly be enjoyable.” Sherlock liked the idea. “I am sure the occasion will present.”

 “Is there history there? With Sebastian at Uni?” John was suddenly serious.

 “No. You know I never let anyone touch me. Abhorrent until you.” The detective shivered at the idea. “He did bully me. He and his cronies. They used my lack of romantic or sexual partners as a constant tool to belittle me, that and their attack on my intellectual abilities.”

 “Then I will certainly have to initiate ‘pay back’ time.” John stroked Sherlocks arm. ‘Here, take your tea and toast. I am off to shower.” The dectective returned to the table and his lap top. He pulled up a file, one he maintained containing information on his university years, he began to read.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian Wilkes lived in a block of flats on the South Bank; expensive, great location and pretentious. John and Sherlock were buzzed into the lobby and took the lift to the tenth floor.

 “Men! You made it.” Sebastian was waiting as the lift doors opened. He led the way to his flat and gestured for the two men to enter. The wall that faced north was glass, allowing a view of the Thames and Waterloo Bridge that was worth several hundred thousand pounds on the value of the flat, it was intended to impress. It failed on that account with Sherlock and John. They entered the room, and immediately went to examine the items on the table, clearly the ‘gifts’ sent to Sebastian by his stalker.

 “Have you studied the items closely? We need to discern whether they are your original items or duplicates.” Sherlock spoke to their host; Sebastian’s expression revealed that he had not looked at the items closely.  “Sit and carefully scrutinize each one. Look for chips, marks, anything that you can recall from the original.” 

 The banker took a seat at the table and began to look at a university mug, he obviously did not notice anything familiar, as he placed it down and picked up a bobble head doll of a Hula Girl. “My sister brought this back from Hawaii for me when I was fourteen. Bit of a laugh really. If you pull up her lei she has boobs.” Sebastian demonstrated to a totally unimpressed Sherlock and a disgusted John. “Lift her grass skirt she has..”

 ‘Yes, thank you, we can see.” John cut him off, with a grimace. ‘They actually make anatomically correct bobble head dolls. Your sister gave that to you as a souvenir?”

 “Oh wait a sec!” Sebastian had noticed something. “This is the real deal. Look, one of my mates, on a lark drew a tattoo on her arse with a marker pen. It’s still here.” The detective took the item from Sebastian and proceeded to examine the doll with his magnifier. John had to walk away from the vision of Sherlock examining a tattoo on a doll’s bottom, bit too much.  “It’s definitely the mark my friend made.” Sebastian confirmed, picking up a wooden box that contained a tiny chess set and starting to examine each piece.

 “Can you recall the last time all objects were in the same location?” Sherlock asked.

 “Probably my room in the Halls of Residence at uni. I had a great deal of junk in there. Can’t say I recall moving any of it to my first London pad. By that time I went minimalist, so my stuff from uni was boxed and either binned, donated or stored in Mumsies attic.” The banker was looking at a beer stein. “Oh Good God, this stein has a chip in the rim, I recall when that occurred.” He handed it to Sherlock.

 “So, these items are the originals. Which means that the person knew you at university. Odd eclectic items, all with sentimental value to you. So the thief would have been emotionally invested in you. You would have noticed if they had all been taken at one time, so a syphoning off then, one at a time. They had access to you and your room over a prolonged period. Has anyone from that time resurfaced in your life?” The words were delivered so rapidly Sebastian could not keep up.

 “What?” Sebastian asked.

 “Someone from uni. Have they resurfaced recently?” Sherlock showed frustration.

 “You.” 

 “Not me Sebastian. You came to find me, you idiot. Has anyone else reentered your life from the past?”  A scornful expression was on the detective’s face.   

 “No.” 

 Sherlock rose and strode to the window, where John was already standing. “I am not sure I can tolerate his presence in order to investigate this case.” He spoke quietly to John. 

 “The temptation to allow the stalker to kill him _is_ strong.” John nodded. “One less banker in the world. We could do society a favor.” They exchanged a smile. Sherlock took a deep breath and made a decision.

 “I’ll take the case.” Sherlock turned to face Sebastian. “ I need you to organize a reunion, your crowd from uni, it will provide me the opportunity to observe them. Invite all your ex lovers, your drinking pals and the rugby and cricket sets. Also invite your tutors and the people you paid to do your course work for you.”

 “I never cheated on my course work Sherlock!” Sebastian attempted outrage.

 “Seb, I know you paid for your assignments to be done for you, you asked me to do several of the chemistry papers! I refused and you got Haddon to do them. Invite the people you used and paid. It will take a week or two to set that up, in the meantime I will need the gift items for further analysis, I will also need the letters. Have them boxed and delivered to me. I shall be in touch. Good day Sebastian. Come along John.”

 John nodded at the banker and followed his detective out. “Thoughts?” John asked as they stood in the descending lift.

 “He was well liked by many at uni, but loathed by those he used and bullied. He was promiscuous, bisexual, always had a girlfriend but was shagging several boys in secret. His parties were infamous for the sex.” Sherlock revealed. “The motive could be one of many, too early to speculate, but it would appear that this has been in someones plans for a long time. They took those items and kept them for over twelve years. The question is why now? What has triggered this onslaught at this time.”

 “Maybe the upcoming wedding?”

 “Unlikely, it’s his fifth. If it was jealousy or unrequited love the stalker would have acted at the time of the first wedding. However you have a good point, it may not be the wedding but maybe it is this particular bride. We need to look into her. Yes, well thought John.” Sherlock smiled with a hint of pride directed at his doctor. They exited the lift and left the building. “Shall we walk home?” 

 They fell into companionable silence as they strode along the Thames. John was contemplating meeting the people from Sherlock’s university days, an insight he would value. His mind stumbled onto a phrase Sherlock had spoken in the lift.

 “Sex parties eh?” 

 “What? Oh Sebastian’s orgies. Yes. They were infamous on campus.” Sherlock revealed. 

 “And..?” 

 “I did attend on one occasion, out of curiosity of course, for research. They threw me out, said I was a voyouristic pervert as I refused to join in the sexual activities. It all looked very...unhygienic.”

 John giggled with abandon. 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee bit of a romantic interlude before we get to the case and the angst of the past. FYI the restaurant in this chapter, Pasha, is a favourite of Mark Gatiss, it is really good food and atmosphere.

“Are we going out to eat then?” John crossed the kitchen to put the milk in the fridge, turned and stood behind Sherlock, who was seated at his microscope. “You know, before midnight?”

 “Planning on it.” The nonchalant reply was spoken to the microscope.

 “”It’s been two weeks of these stupid items all over the flat, surely we can put some of them back in the box.” The items were Sebastian’s ‘gifts’ from his stalker and John had grown to hate every one of them. They reminded him of the pompous idiot that they had originally belonged to, and John was just reaching his limit of Sebastian Wilkes. “ You have proven that they were all stored in bubble wrap, in a low humidity room, handled with gloves, some faint pollen traces that could lead to an Essex location. Which is brilliant, but you knew that from the second day you had the bloody things in the flat. There may be no other clues on them. So can we just put them away? At least that stupid bobble head hula girl. It’s just distasteful.”

 “Yes. We _are_ going out to eat.” Sherlock sat up, smiled at John. “You need to eat and obviously get out of this flat. Chinese? Tai?”

 “Turkish.” John smirked. “I heard of a place in Islington, by the Angel, that has excellent lamb. Thought we’d try there.”

 “Wonderful. Lead on Doctor.” Sherlock sprung into action, donning his coat and scarf. “I am ravenous”

 “You OK?” John was skeptical at any declaration of appetite from Sherlock.

 “I have been ignoring you, I aim to fix that. Turkish sounds delicious.”  

 The culinary delights of Pasha restaurant in Islington, North London were delicious. It was a trendy neighborhood place, that was bustling with couples as well as families, so the atmosphere was relaxed and informal. They splashed out and ordered a bottle ofLaurent Perrier Rose,as it was a favorite of the detectives, which went a long way in relaxing the doctor. They laughed a great deal over Sherlock’s observations of Sebastian based on his choice of memorabilia and John was positively glowing as the wine sent Sherlock into a slight lisping tendency he had when tipsy. Both detective and doctor were in happy moods as they left the restaurant, and decided to stroll for a while.

 “Baker Street is this way.” Sherlock pointed to the west as John headed in a different direction.

 “It’s a beautiful night, lets walk for a while, I want to see something that is about a fifteen minute walk from here.” The doctor smiled, gesturing with a head nod to go north. Sherlock shook his head and followed.

“A mystery John?”

 “Don’t spoil it by deducing. You always spoil my surprises.” 

 They walked northwest, passing Highgate Fields and heading towards the Victorian cemetery, Sherlock had deduced their destination within three minutes, but kept quiet.

 “Ready to scale a wall?” John had a glint in his eye as he stood in front of a stone wall: the perimeter of Highgate Cemetery.

 “Always.” Sherlock smiled a genuine smile. “Leg up Doctor?” He assisted John to reach the top of the wall so John could grip with his hands, then guided John’s legs upward to enable him to go over the wall. Sherlock then walked back a few paces and took a running leap at the wall scaling it perfectly. On the other side John led the way through the leafy and in places, overgrown, foliage, past the tombstones and along a path, before stopping at a grave. It bore the name; Michael Faraday.

 “Faraday’s grave.” Sherlock spoke with awe. John gave him a moment to contemplate the man whose name conjured such respect and admiration in Sherlock. “One of the greatest scientists to ever live.”

 “I need to ask you something. I know you have probably deduced what that is. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment for weeks.” Sherlock turned to face John. He did know, yet somehow had doubted the moment would ever actually manifest. “I was going to ask you in the restaurant, wine and dine you and then propose. But I realized that wasn’t how you propose to Sherlock Holmes. So, here we are in a gothic cemetery, it’s midnight, we are here by jumping over the wall, and in front of the grave of a chemist that changed the course of science. This, this is how you propose to Sherlock Holmes.” John smiled, sure and determined and true. Sherlock never broke eye contact. “Sherlock, will you marry me?”

 Sherlock released an audible sigh of joy. His facial expression displayed several emotions in rapid succession; joy, relief, anticipation, gratefulness and adoration. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He wiped it swiftly away. Finally, Sherlock, pulled himself together, swallowed, closed and then opened his eyes and stated: “John you are perfect.” His voice was overloaded with emotion, “I had no intention of ever leaving you or ever letting you go. But I would be honored to live the rest of my life as your husband.” 

 Their eyes locked into a gaze for a moment that felt as if it lasted a life time. Then John closed the gap between them and kissed Sherlock. It was a formal kiss, one that befit the occasion and spoke of commitment and status. They broke apart and stood embracing each other, appreciating the very moment that they would both recall for the rest of their lives. 

 “Never thought I would marry, I never thought anyone would have me.” Sherlock confessed suddenly relaxing into John.

 “Yeah, well, you keep telling me I’m an idiot. I’m just your idiot.”  John laughed, stroking his fiancé’s cheek and marveling at the colour of Sherlock’s eyes.

 "I only just told you that you are _perfect_. How quickly you forget.” 

 “Oh, not forgotten, stored for posterity. I _will_ remind you of it repeatedly.” Both men felt relief and sheer joy overwhelm, and they began to laugh. “Let’s go home.” John decided, stepping out of the embrace and taking Sherlock’s hand. “In a cab, I want to get home quickly and finish this night right.”

 “I do hope you are referring to our bed John.” The detective followed his doctor.

 “Oh most certainly."

 

 

 

  

 

  

 


	4. Chapter 4

Three weeks to the day since Sebastian had become a client; Sherlock and John were to meet with Sebastian and his fiancee. The venue was Sebastian’s flat. The detective and his doctor entered to be greeted by a familiar face; Amanda.  Amanda of the nine million pound hair pin.

“Hello again.” She cheerfully greeted Sherlock with a handshake. “You must be Doctor Watson, I never did get to meet you.” She turned to smile and greet John.

“I didn’t know that you were the bride to be. Congratulations.” Sherlock was treading carefully. “Still working at the bank?”

“Oh gosh no. I left once I had the settlement from the Chinese government for returning the jade hair pin. Not nine mill, but a good percentage, enough to leave the nine to five drudgery and start my own business. I own a small tea import company, rare teas, it’s doing very well.” Amanda took a seat on the opulent black leather settee and gestured for the two guests to sit. “Started dating Seb after I left the bank.”

“Where is Sebastian?” John enquired.

 “He will be here shortly, running late is all. Can I get you something to drink? I have a fine selection of tea.”

 “Yes, that would be nice..” John accepted but was cut off by Sherlock.

 “Whilst we have you alone Amanda, can you tell me your thoughts on the stalker?” 

 “I think it’s either an ex girlfriend, a disgruntled client or maybe a mad relative with a grudge. Those objects they are sending wrapped as gifts, they are from Seb’s teenage years, so it has to be someone with a history with Seb doesn’t it?” Amanda stated, apparently not disturbed by the stalker. “Seb tells me that he had a few girl cousins that had crushes on him so maybe one of them is the culprit.”

 “Why now? They have kept those items carefully for a long time, so why start returning them now?” Sherlock pushed forward.

 “Maybe it’s the wedding.” Amanda shrugged. ‘Or maybe it’s his promotion at the bank? Only two things that have occurred recently.”

 “Sorry, sorry chaps, running late.” Sebastian bustled in, “Mandy taking care of you is she?” He placed items on the table, delivered a kiss to Amanda, and removed his jacket. “No tea? Darling what will our guests think of us.” 

 “Just going to make some.” Amanda excused herself and went into the kitchen.

 “New item.” Sebastian pointed to the table. “Delivered like all the others to the bank. This time bit gruesome.” He whispered the last sentence. ‘May upset the women folk.” John looked at the banker with continuing disgust; he doubted Amanda would be easily rattled.

 Sherlock stood and went to the table, he opened the packaging surrounding a shoe box. “Brown paper outer wrapping, parcel post issue, same as the others. London postmark. Second layer is gift paper, blue with sailboats, again, same as the other items. Third layer is a Clark’s shoe box, men’s size 10 shoes, leather brogues.” He read the label still on the box. “And..Oh.” He opened the lid. “A family pet I presume?” He looked at Sebastian, who nodded. ‘Cat, ginger tom, dead, taxidermied.” John joined Sherlock at the table and took a look at the cat.

 “Faust. The family cat. Went missing when I was in sixth form. Presumed run over. That item was never in my possession. My family had no idea what happened to him.” Sebastian revealed. 

 “Breaking the pattern.” Sherlock was positively beaming. “Oh this is good, we may be getting somewhere now. I will need to take the cat of course.”

 “Poor Faust, did they kill him and stuff him?” Sebastian asked.

 “Not sure, will need to examine cause of death, but it ties the stalker down to knowing you at eighteen, pre university. Did anyone from school go to uni with you?” Sherlock put the lid back on the shoe box as Amanda came into the room.

 “Lots of chaps. Only a few were in my inner circle, would have had access to my rooms in the halls.” The banker cleared the coffee table and assisted Amanda to set the tea tray down. “Paul Maddon, Ivor Godfrey and Stephen Rutland.”

 “Are they attending the reunion tomorrow?” Sherlock returned to his seat as Amanda served the tea.

 “Ummm. Think so, they sent confirmation emails.” Sebastian sat back into his chair with his tea. ‘Over eighty guests expected, not everybody could attend.”

 "The CCTV footage of the event will be made available to you as you requested.” Amanda added.

 “What? We aren’t going to be there?” John was surprised, and disappointed. He had been looking forward to the insight he would gain about Sherlock.

 “Oh we will be there John. But I need footage of the room to augment my observation, plus views of the hallways and exteriors.” The detective’s eyes twinkled showing his anticipation in the upcoming adventure.

 

*****

 On examination, Sherlock discovered that Faust was killed by a stab wound to the neck. The fur had been carefully sown together, but was not undetectable. He was taxidermied soon after, and kept, wrapped in plastic for several years. The shoe box he was mailed in however, was new. The serial number could be traced through the stores computer system and had been bought from the Clarks Regent Street branch. Sherlock managed to discover that the shoes had been bought for £110, four months prior, and the buyer paid cash. Clarks would not cooperate and allow the detective to look at CCTV footage of the day unless he was on an official police investigation. This, as could be expect, caused some anger in the detective. Mycroft refused to intervene.

********

 “You look stunning.” John gazed at his fiancé as they prepared to leave Baker Street for the reunion. “I always love you in that navy suit.”

“Don’t you love me in all my suits? For that matter in any of my clothes? Or naked?”

 “Especially naked, it's my favourite look on you.” John smiled. “Yes I do love you in general, but I think you look gorgeous in the navy suit.”

 “You, too, are looking especially handsome tonight.” Sherlock stroked John’s shoulder. “I will be the envy of all that witness your presence.”

 “Shall we?” John gestured to the door. The detective led the way. 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The reunion was being held at Vinopolis, a wine tasting centre, set on the south bank of the Thames in Southwark. The room Sebastian had hired was The Gallery; a large modern space, devoid of colour or theme but with feature lighting in various colours adding the atmosphere. An office near by had been set up as the surveillance room with the cctv camera monitors lined up on a long table. Sherlock and John had arrived early to oversee the camera angles and blind spots, which they did quickly and effectively with Sherlock positioning the cameras as he directed John around the venue on his phone.

 Amanda and Sebastian, along with five close friends, arrived and entered the main room to supervise the lighting effects and table layouts. Gradually the guests began to arrive, and Sebastian went into host mode with aplomb; laughing loudly at the hint of any humor from a guest. A band started to play a set, mainly swing music, but nobody danced, preferring to watch the antics of the three bar tenders who where expertly making cocktails in a flamboyant display.  

 Sherlock, watching the arrivals on the monitors, recognized most of the his university peers, groaning as he saw particularly tedious ones enter. John was receiving a running commentary on the guests.

 “Jeffrey Gates; arrogant and ignorant in equal measure, devoid of ethics, is up and coming in the Conservative back benches I hear. Annabel Sloan-White, nymphamaniac, bulimic, never breaks a smile, face is probably frozen now by chemicals by the looks of those lips, total waste of space. Oh and the flamboyant Miles Saint John Novak, I thought he would have o.d’d years ago. He was the go to guy for cocaine and heroin, he could also get any prescription drugs on request, fancied himself as a mob boss but was lacking organizational skills, used his own drugs so he was high most of the time.”

 John had been listening, amused by the rapid fire dialectics of Sherlock’s running commentary, but the word ‘cocaine’ felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown at him. “Was he your dealer?” John asked. Sherlock’s head snapped around to face John, he had been zoned in on the arriving guests, but the tone of voice from his doctor reminded him that his history had an emotional impact on John. He saw the hurt in John’s eyes. 

 “Occasionally I did buy from him.” Sherlock knew that only honesty would help in this moment. “His product was unreliable, others had access and cut it down, so it was a risk to buy from him.”

 The doctor grimaced, swallowed, coughed, took a deep breath and nodded. 

“This is difficult for you.” The detective spoke gently. “I would experience similar emotions if I were to hear of the events surrounding your near fatal injury in Afghanistan. Although I know you are alive and well, and here with me now, I would be reminded that I came close to never knowing you, never having this with you. It would be emotionally painful.”

 John was impressed with the empathy Sherlock displayed, he nodded again, and then smiled. “But we did both survive.” Sherlock returned the smile and resumed observing the arrivals. After another thirty five minutes of arriving guests, the flow appeared to have ended. John stood, straightened his suit, assumed military posture and touched Sherlock’s shoulder. “Shall we enter the fray and mingle?”

 There was a clear hesitation in Sherlock’s facial expression, but only fleeting, and then the detective was present;  “The game is on John. Let’s find the stalker.”

 Entering the Gallery the detective and doctor were greeted by Sebastian.

 “Big crowd eh? More than we expected, word must have got out; another of Seb’s cannot-miss-parties. All blotto by the end of the night no doubt.” Sebastian was clearly on his way to inebriation. Sherlock looked at Sebastian with distain.

 “We are here to work. This is a case.” 

 “Yeah but, we can have fun, a wee drinkie poo can’t hurt can it?” The banker dismissed the detective.

 “We will find you later Sebastian.” John took Sherlock’s arm and pulled him away from their client. “Let’s work the room.” Sherlock shook himself, appeared to pull on a defensive shield of body posture and then approached a group of guests. The group clearly recognized Sherlock as the all their focus went to the detective.

 “Sherlock Holmes! Hello again, thought you’d be too famous for an event as mundane as this.”

“Holmes. David Hopkins, remember me? Always wanting to copy your chemistry assignments.”

“Sherlock, you look terrific, being in the public eye must be paying off.”

“Gosh, you haven’t aged have you? Look at the rest of us, had to tell each other who we all were. You, on the other hand, still the same, couldn’t mistake you.”

“Wow, you look delicious. Holmes if I had known I would have snagged you in uni!”

 Sherlock and John stood smiling forcibly at the group. Once the platitudes had died down, the detective took the lead.

 “Yes, wonderful to see you all. May I introduce my fiancé; Doctor John Watson, retired Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusileers.” John threw a quick glance at Sherlock, surprised at the use of his military rank, before effortlessly entering charming mode and shaking the hands of the gathered guests. They each offered their names to John.

 “So, the famous Holmes and Watson. Sleuthing a good business venture?” A balding obese man enquired.

 “I am not a detective for the financial rewards, Gleeson.” Sherlock scoffed.

 “You always were good at sussing us out. That’s why everyone avoided you; you were the mirror none of us wanted to look in.” A thin lady in Chanel spoke, John picked up on that comment:

 “So your reflections were not ones that you could be proud of?”

 “Whose are?” the woman tried to deflect the comment.

 “She is correct John.” Sherlock spoke; ‘not everyone can be you.”

 “Have an interesting case to tell us about?” A tall bespectacled man asked.

 “Arrh I would suggest you read my blog. Until they are on the blog we keep everything confidential. The ones we can reveal are done so using an alias and tweaking some of the locations and the facts. Blog of Doctor John Watson, just search and it will come up.” John explained. ‘Shall we get a drink?” He asked Sherlock observing the detectives discomfort with the socializing, so made their move to leave.

 “I can’t use a different persona at this event John, so it’s tedious, I am not a naturally social person.” Sherlock sighed looking to John for help.

 “You are doing fine, just let me handle the small talk and you look for the stalker. Let’s get drinks to carry around, pretend we are enjoying ourselves, and you do your stuff and I will deflect the conversations.OK?”

 They engaged with three more groups of guests, receiving almost identical greetings and responses as from the first group: All were delighted to see the famous Holmes and Watson, all thought Sherlock was looking wonderful, Sherlock lacked any spark of social ability, one or more of each group brought up Sherlock’s unpopularity at uni, and then John sent veiled insults in response.  

 However the next group they approached were all male, several drinks in to the evening, and starting to be rowdy. 

 “May we join you?” John approached them.

 “May I introduce my fiancé; Doctor John Watson, retired Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” Sherlock always said it with great pride.

 “It’s the bloody Oracle.” One man laughed. 

 “The freak of geek has a fiancé.” Another giggled.

 “Curly Sherly Mind Reader Extraordinaire.” Another whispered to his friend.

 “Oh piss off Holmes, and your little gay boyfriend, never liked you then and don’t like you now.”  Clearly the alpha male in the group, delivered that sentence, causing the rest of the group to laugh.

 Sherlock regressed to being the uncertain nineteen year old he had been when this type of bullying had been directed at him in university, it was as if he had no control of himself and was having a flash back due to post traumatic shock. He struggled to pull out of it but failed, he felt immobilized. John saw the expression on his love’s face, saw the different stance, the struggle in his love’s eyes. John was furious.

  _Captain_ John Watson dived into the group, pushing two of the men aside and aiming for the throat of the alpha. Though at least five inches shorter than the man, John gripped the man’s throat and and with his free hand, grabbed the mans arm and twisted it behind his back, making the man bend and yield. John was literally in the man’s face.

 “Who the fuck do you think you are, insulting my fiancé? I have killed men for just looking _wrongly_ at him, do you think I won’t take you out for that fucking insult? You! A piece of shit not fit to be in his presence, and you think you can fucking insult him? Apologize now. Understand? Apologize or I will break your arm.” John had hissed and spat the words at the man.

 “I am sorr....sorryyy Sher....Sherlock.” The man stuttered hoarsely, as John still gripped his throat.

 “No, oh no.” John shouted into the man’s ear. ‘You apologize on your fucking knees.” He forced the man to the floor.

 “I am sorry Sherlock.” The man stated, red faced and needing to breath. John let him go as if he were throwing rubbish away. The group were gaping, open mouthed, at the turn of events.

 “That’s assault.” One of the group felt brave and pitched in.

 “Fucking say another word and it’ll be grievous bodily harm.”John snapped at him. 

 “What is the problem here?” Sebastian came over to intervene. “All right chaps, no need to be fighting, ladies present and all that.”

 “Take care of this Sebastian.” John took Sherlock’s hand and led him away. They went out of the Gallery and into the office with the monitors. John looked at Sherlock. “Are you OK?”

 “Yes.” The reply was spoken in a sad and childlike way. Sherlock looked at John. “Thank you for defending me.”

 “What happened out there? You never let people put you down like that, you kill them with a flick of your tongue, the insults are like razor blades, and if that fails you could take them down physically, I know I have seen you fight hundreds of times. What happened just now?" John was puzzled.

 “I froze John. It was just as if I was back in uni, or school, and the others were all ganged up on me. I had no self esteem then, I was unsure if they were right. Father did it to me as a child, I wondered if I was what they said I was. I allowed it. Tonight was the first time in over ten years where I felt unsure of myself. I am sorry you saw that.”

 “I saw you as you were back then.” John came closer to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around the detectives waist. “Severe emotional trauma, carried out over years, leaves it’s scars. You were triggered into a regression. PTSD makes us withdraw and immobilizes us, I think you had an attack of PTSD. You have healed so well Sherlock from all the past issues, you are a marvel in what you have achieved and how you have conquered the demons. Tonight was just a glitch. Please don’t dwell on it. I took care of the bastard for you. Let’s forget him.” John gave his fiancé a kiss on the lips, stroked the curls back from his forehead and squeezed him in the hug. Sherlock responded by kissing John on the temple, the trauma seemingly dissipating.

 “The stalker has not been in any of the groups we have spoken to. If they are here, they are solitary or, apparently similar to myself; seen as an outsider by the rest.” Let me scan the cctv footage quickly to see what I am missing.” The detective took a seat at the monitors and began to study. 

 John looked at his love, thinking of the lonely boy, brilliant and different; who by his very beauty and genius was fated to never fit in. Yet this boy had matured into a strong man, self possessed and fitting a role that no other could fill; a role that saved lives and put criminals behind bars. A man that could love so deeply that he had saved a lonely broken soldier and given that soldier a place at his side. John was in awe of Sherlock, had been since the day they met and would always be. 

 “Right.” Sherlock turned to face John. “What?” he caught John’s expression. 

 “Nothing.” John shook his head, but a silent connection went between them, one of love and admiration.

 “I have four people in the room to focus on, need to interact with them.” Sherlock stood up. “Oh, and John, do try and refrain from choking, maiming and subduing the guests if possible.” He led the way out of the room, with a giggling Doctor Watson in tow.   

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we meet Victor Trevor!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited, wanted to get it posted as my Mac is in for repairs tomorrow. Any errors please excuse I will sort once I have my Mac back. Next chapter asap.

Sherlock had four people targeted as he reentered the Gallery. These four had kept themselves separated from the mass of university alumni that were gathered in social groups, by either propping up the bar, or sitting off in a corner watching the room. Sherlock headed for a stocky red haired gentleman by the bar, John followed. The detective ordered two whiskeys and then feigned surprise at seeing the man he was targeting.

 “Monty. How are you?” Sherlock shook his head. ‘Gosh, I didn’t know you were here. Keeping out of all the drama?”

 “Unlike you. Bit of a scuffle earlier.” Monty gestured to the group now casting daggers at John Watson. “They always were dick heads that gang, stayed away from them if possible.  Did they insult you or something?”

 “Yes. Idiots. My fiancé put the ring leader in his place. Monty this is my fiancé; Doctor John Watson, retired Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” Monty and John shook hands.

 “Loved how you brought Teddy Whitney to his knees. Obviously trained in hand to hand combat.” The red haired man was impressed. “Can I buy you a drink for that?”

 “Maybe later.” John smiled. 

 “Monty was on the university quiz team, excellent on history and the arts.” Sherlock told John. “Still in that line of study Monty?”

 “No. Well, it’s a hobby still. But I went into civil engineering, work mainly in the Gulf, I’m the one responsible for most of the development in Dubai. Just flew in this morning, have some meetings on Monday sorting my Mother’s estate, she passed away not long ago. Heard Sebastian was throwing this event so dropped by. But one thing I didn’t think through; never liked most of these morons, so why would I now!” Monty laughed. “Same with you Holmes, you detested the lot of them.”

 “Yes. With cause. Well it was good seeing you again Monty.” Sherlock nodded and headed away from the man and the bar, apparently satisfied that Monty was not the stalker. John was left looking at Monty.

 “So, nice to meet you. Rain check on that drink. Safe flight back to the Gulf.” John followed Sherlock. “Not the stalker?” He asked when he caught up with the detective.

 “No, not the stalker. He is wealthy, in demand for his skills,  has a wife in Dubai, several children, converted to Islam several years ago, has detached from his life here. Not interested in Sebastian at all.” Sherlock was checking his texts. “Right, lets try Miriam Golding over there by the stage, she had a history with Sebastian.” The detective led the way across the room to a lady sitting at a table nursing a drink and pretending to be listening to the band.

 “Miriam. Hello. Saw you were alone, wanted to say hi.” Sherlock turned on the charm. The woman looked up, relieved that someone had noticed her and initiated conversation.

 “Please, sit.” She gestured at the empty chairs at her table. John and Sherlock sat down facing her. “I’m Miriam Cohen.” She introduced herself to John." formerly Golding."

 “This is my fiancé; Doctor John Watson, retired Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” Sherlock proudly looked at John. John thought it was adorable that Sherlock was using his full title to everyone, as if it were a validation that he, Sherlock, could be engaged to such a man as John. The doctor always thought it was the opposite; that an ordinary man like himself could be with someone as enigmatic, mercurial, brilliant and beautiful as Sherlock Holmes.

 “Congratulations to you both.” Miriam beamed. “I thought you were gay, but was never really sure. Didn’t want to say anything incase I offended. It is wonderful that you can marry now. When is the big day?”

 Ignoring the homophobic undertones of the woman’s words, Sherlock looked at John and realized that they had actually not discussed a wedding. “Haven’t set the date yet, but soon.” Sherlock replied. John looked at him and nodded, a silent message going between them of ‘need to make this official’. 

 “My husband couldn’t attend, he was busy with work, we live up in Harrogate, he’s a solicitor there, very busy.” Miriam informed, twirling her wedding ring around her finger nervously. “He wanted to accompany me but unfortunately couldn’t get away.” Sherlock was observing everything about her, suddenly her attention was caught by something across the Gallery floor. Her eyes lit up and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Sherlock turned to see what it was; it was the entrance of Victor Trevor.

 The entire room was entranced by the arrival of a very handsome, hot and charismatic man. Tall, probably six foot four or five, muscular and buff, blonde hair glossy in the lights of the room, worn long to accentuate the luxuriousness of the silken hair, handsome face, dressed in a black suit that fit him like a glove. Victor Trevor could have graced the front cover of any magazine; whether celebrity, sporting or fashion. He was outstandingly good looking, and everyone, in the room, was taking him in. Sebastian had immediately gone over to welcome him, and was introducing him to Amanda. Victor kissed her hand in greeting and the three shared a humorous exchange.

 “Sherlock, it’s Victor. Did you know he was attending?” Miriam asked with delight. 

 “John, let’s go.” Sherlock stood up abruptly. “Need to leave right now.”

 “Wait. Why?” John was confused. He looked up at Sherlock, then at Miriam, then back to the new arrival across the room. “Whose Victor?” 

 “He was Sherlock’s...” Miriam started to answer.

 “John now. We need to go now.” The doctor felt his arm being pulled by the detective. He was pulled up from his seat swiftly. “Goodbye Miriam. John if you will just come along.”  Sherlock pulled John after him as he skirted the room to leave.

 “Sherlock, what is going on?” John’s voice was lost in the acoustics of the room.

 “Holmes!” Victor Trevor had spotted Sherlock’s retreat. He called out to him, gesturing with a hand held high in the air. “Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock kept moving, pulling John with him, intent on escape. Victor was not going to allow that to occur; he excused himself from Sebastian and Amanda and made to intercept. Sherlock saw the play and tried to counter by swerving to the left and heading for a side door that led to the kitchens. However that way was blocked as a cart loaded with buffet food was wheeled out. The detective turned to start an alternate route but Victor was quick and was immediately in front of the detective, John sandwiched in between.

 “Jesus, Sherlock. You running away from me?” Victor laughed. ‘The story of our relationship eh!” 

 Sherlock looked down at John, bit his lip, his eyes worried. John read the expression  and sent a questioning glance in return. Sherlock blinked several times, the thoughts flashing across his mind, then deciding on a course of action, he raised his eyes to look at Victor.

 “Victor. How unexpected. Thought you were in India.” 

 “I was, but I am a trade partner with Amanda, in tea imports, needed to meet her in person and when I heard about the reunion I realized I could kill two birds with one stone. So here I am. You look.....good.” The last word held ulterior meanings.

 John turned to face Victor, and the first thought was; _this man is huge, bloody handsome, and huge._ John had to look up to see Victor’s face, and he did not like what he was seeing. Lust, emotion and joy were evident as Victor looked at Sherlock.

 “So how are you Sherlock? Who is this poor gentleman you were dragging around the room?”

 “This is John, John Watson. We were just leaving.” Sherlock replied. John noted that for the first time all evening he was just plain John Watson. 

 “It’s early. I have just arrived, let me buy you a drink, catch up.” Victor actually reached out and touched Sherlock’s arm. “Oh and it’s a pleasure to meet you John.” It came as an after thought. John knew that Victor was aware of nobody in the room but Sherlock. John began to bristle.

 “Can’t. Working. Working this evening. In a few minutes. Have to dash.” Sherlock was babbling. He attempted to maneuver around Victor but was blocked by the larger man. 

 “Lock, please. I need to talk to you. You refuse to take my calls so I gave up trying, your email and blog ask box are blocked to me, you won’t return any written correspondence. What do I have to do to get you to speak to me.” Victor used a pet name for Sherlock and John Watson was not pleased, a pout worked it’s way onto his lips. 

 “Any idiot would have received the clear indication that I do not want to be in contact. I thought that was clear. I have nothing to say to you Victor. We are leaving.” Sherlock took John’s hand and this time managed to skirt Victor, leading the doctor out of the Gallery and into the office room with the monitors. He visibly relaxed as soon as the door was closed behind them. Turning he faced John. 

 John was annoyed, visibly so, pout still in place, eyes burning into Sherlock. “One, two, three...” John counted.

 “He was a friend at uni. My only friend at uni. A close friend. For a while we were best friends.” Sherlock knew John was counting down to losing his temper, so was trying to stop the deluge. “I had no other friends, surprisingly neither did he, so we were together a great deal. I spent a summer at his family estate in Norfolk, I ....it all went wrong. It wasn’t what he wanted. We ended the friendship on bad terms. He has tried ever since to make amends. That’s it. All of it.” Sherlock waited to see if the count down would continue.

 “Four, five...” It did.

 “He wanted me physically. I didn’t want him. I cared for him but he said he loved me and I think that may have been true. I didn’t want the friendship to end but it had to as Victor could not be ‘just’ friends.” Sherlock rapidly spoke. “Please John stop counting.” There was silence. Sherlock waited for the word ‘six’ to come from John’s mouth, it did not come.

 “You never mentioned him.” John stated, still and quiet. Not a good sign.

 “I deleted him, well as best I could. He was of no consequence to me. I had no intention of being romantically or sexually involved with him, and that is all he wanted. He moved to a family plantation in The Terai, a tea plantation at the foot hills of the Himalayas, once he graduated. I never responded to any of his attempts to reestablish contact. There was no reason to mention him.”

 "When was the last time he tried to make contact?”

 “Not sure.”

 “Sherlock!!” John’s tone was terse.

 “Two months ago.” 

 “So since you finished it with him at university, he has tried to contact you for fourteen years?” John sighed. “An ardor that strong, it lasts that long. Hell it’s in the way the man says your name and looks at you. And you never thought to tell me?”

 “I just think of you. I have no room in my brain to think of Victor. No room anywhere John for anyone but you.” Sherlock had a vulnerability to him now, "John you cannot think I have any feeling towards Victor, I don’t.”

 “I don’t think that you do. But I am hurt that you failed to tell me.”

 “I have never asked you about your myriad of women John. Never. I only know the ones that you dated since meeting me. They are inconsequential to our relationship. I told you that I had no one before you, I didn’t. Victor was my friend. I had no control over how he felt about me, and that the friendship grew into love on his part. I may have handled it badly with him, but I am inept at these types of situations. I have not thought of him for years, he is a nuisance and little else. I didn’t feel it worthy of telling you.”

 “That’s crap Sherlock. If you thought that then why did you react to his arrival as you did. You practically ran from the room. And you did not want me to know.”

 “I panicked John. I saw him and I panicked. I didn’t want you upset at me and I knew if you met him you would know his feelings for me. Inept as I said before.” 

 “OK, now I know. So I think we go back out there and talk to him.” John decided. “He needs to know that you are now taken. By me.”

“Why? He is just...”

 “Mine, Sherlock. He needs to know you are mine. Believe me, _I_ need him to know that.”

 “Fine. Fine. This is disrupting my work on the case. But fine.” Sherlock was agitated. 

 John opened the door and waited for the detective to step through, he followed Sherlock down the hall and back into the Gallery. Victor was the centre of attention of a large group, but John noticed Victor had caught sight of Sherlock’s arrival back in the room. Victor made excuses and moved toward the doctor and detective.

 “You came back.” Victor looked at Sherlock.

 “Yes.” John spoke. “Lets have that drink shall we and a chat.”

 “Good. Yes.” Victor smiled and followed the pair to a table. 

 “Sherlock why don’t you go and get the drinks.” John suggested. “Victor what would you like?”

 “Gin and tonic.” Victor had an amused look on his face as Sherlock went to buy the drinks.

 “He actually did as you told him!! Never thought I’d see the day. Who are you? His handler, minder? Is he clean now or are you paid by his brother to ensure his sobriety?” Victor changed drastically once alone with John. Gone was the charming and charismatic chap, here was a ruthless and determined man.

 “I am the man that he loves, and the man who loves him. You need no other information. He is mine. Any attempt to change that will be met with hostility. Do you understand?” John was abrupt and abrasive in return.

 “Oh a challenge. You want to do pistols at dawn?” Victor smirked sarcastically. “I know him. I know how to intrigue him.”

 “ Mine.” It was a stand off. The two glared at each other.

 Sherlock returned with the drinks. “Done here.” John stood up. “Leaving.” It was now his turn to take Sherlock’s hand and pull him away. Sherlock looked at John and gave a smile, he allowed himself to be led from the table. Victor started to laugh.

 As they crossed the room a group of dancers started a conga line and tried to pull them in, John felt Sherlock’s hand slip from his. He turned but was confronted by Sebastian.

 “Hey old man, you two can afford to enjoy the night too. Come on, all work and no play...” Sebastian was drunk and pushed John into the line of dancing people. John disengaged himself and looked for his love. He could not see him. He searched the room, no Sherlock. Suddenly he realized: no Victor. 

 Sherlock had been grabbed from behind and pulled by Victor away from John. “Don’t say anything I just want to talk. I promise I will then leave you and John to your own devices. A few minutes Lock please.”

 Sherlock pushed Victor away. “Stop it. Just stop.”

 “I know about the case. About Sebastian’s stalker. Amanda filled me in. I also know something that may be useful. That is all I want to tell you.” Victor looked truthful. Sherlock could not see John, he was lost in the crowd now all on the dance floor.

 “Two minutes.” Sherlock agreed. Victor led the way out of the room and into the hall. “So tell me.” Sherlock looked skeptical.

 “Maybe Sebastian isn’t the target. Maybe it goes deeper than that. Sebastian could be a decoy.” Victor stood close to Sherlock forcing the detective to back up into the wall. Victor suddenly lifted his hand and touched Sherlock’s face. Sherlock pushed Victor backwards.

 “Never touch me. I don’t want you to ever touch me.” Sherlock was angry. Victor laughed and came at Sherlock again grabbing his hand. Sherlock used his remaining hand to deliver a punch to Victor’s face that sent the man reeling backwards and onto the floor.

 "Sherlock!!” It was John, he came running down the hall. “You OK?”

 “Yes, he is an idiot, won’t accept no for an answer.” Sherlock rubbed his knuckles where they had collided with Victor’s cheekbones. 

 John looked down at Victor, still on the floor and looking with amusement at the two men. “If you come near us again you will be sorry.” John hissed. “He is mine. End of.” John looked at Sherlock.

 “This is my finance, Doctor John Watson, retired Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” Sherlock spoke to Victor. “He’s killed men for looking at me the wrong way. Tread carefully Victor.” John smiled a beaming smile, they both turned and exited the hall way, leaving Victor on the floor.

 “The case?” John asked.

 “Solved.” Sherlock smirked. “I will call Sebastian in the morning, he is too drunk to bother with right now.”

 “Home Holmes?”

 “ Our job is done here, think it time for bed John.”

 

*******

 7.32 am. Sherlock’s phone rungs. 

 “Has to be Lestrade.”John rolled over and freed up Sherlock’s arm to reach for the phone.

 “Better be a double murder Lestrade or I am going back to sleep.” Sherlock said, eyes still closed. Suddenly the detective sat up, clearly alarmed. “Who found them? In their flat? Be right there.”

 “Must be a double murder.” John smiled.

 “It is. Somebody killed Sebastian and Amanda.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“John that went in my eye!” Sherlock squirmed, eyes now closed, hands seeking the flannel.

 “If you would stop moving and bend your head down I could reach your hair better.” John huffed.

 “Shampoo in the eye causes instant irritation.”

 “Rinse it out. Get under the shower head.” John pushed his tall, wet, slippery love to the front of the tub, maneuvering around him. “Better?”

 Sherlock was blinking, his left eye inflamed from the shampoo. “Yes. Be more careful next time.” He admonished.

 “Shut it, or next time I’ll get both eyes.” John teased. 

 “Need eyes to observe!” Sherlock broke a smile. “Not much cop without the eyes John.”

 “Oh I wouldn’t say that. You have other attributes.” John embraced his love and cupped both his hands on Sherlock’s buttocks. “Very, very, good ones in fact. Have I told you today that I think you have a spectacular arse Mr Holmes?” 

 “You inferred it by your actions. However you may not take advantage of said ‘arse’ due to the fact our client has been murdered and we need to attend the crime scene. So kindly desist from your tactile explorations and hand me the towel.”

 “The client is apparently dead. He will wait a few minutes. Just a quick hand job? We have time.”

 “I knew the idea of showering together would hinder not help expediency.” Sherlock sighed. “But if you insist, and if it would help stimulate our concentration for the work, then I suppose so....yes, but together, not one at a time.” The detective took matters in hand, as did his doctor.

 ****

 Sebastian’s flat was swarming with forensic officers. Sherlock and John made their way through the crowd to where Lestrade and Donovan stood, in the bedroom doorway. Lestrade looked at the two men warily.

 “Took you long enough.” He grunted.

“Thought we were quite quick.” Sherlock replied with a small smirk at John. John copied the expression.

“In here. Seems you know these two.” Lestrade led the way into the bedroom.

“Clients. Sebastian Wilkes and his fiancé Amanda. I went to university with Wilkes, and a few years ago there was a case involving his bank, two murders. Dimmock was in charge of it, Chinese mob involvement. Sebastian was being stalked, hired us to find out who it was, thought I may have solved it but now I am not so sure.” Sherlock rattled off, as he pulled on latex gloves and circled the bodies. 

 John had pulled on a blue forensics suit and gloved up, he was examining Amanda’s body. Both the bodies were in bed. “No external trauma, some emesis around Sebastian’s mouth and nose. Looks like poison.” John stated. “Four maybe five hours ago.”

 “They went to bed after returning home from the reunion, Amanda fixed a tea for them, cups still by bedside. Probably good route for the poison.” Sherlock sniffed at the tea mugs. ‘Yes, strong smell of chamomile and almonds. Should test positive for cyanide.”

 “What reunion?” Lestrade asked.

 “Sebastian held a reunion at Vinopolis last night. On my request, in order to get the university friends in one room. His stalker was returning items that had been stolen from Sebastian during his days at uni; ergo the stalker was an acquaintance from university. There is CCTV footage of the entire evening, probably still at the venue.” Sherlock was focused on Sebastian’s hands, looking at his nails.

 “You said you thought you knew who the stalker was?” Lestrade prompted.

 “Ummm, yes, one Victor Trevor. He attended the event last night. He indicated to me that that he knew information about the stalker, said that it may have been a rouse to gain someone’s attention, that Sebastian was a ‘decoy’.” John shot up straight, surprised by the revelation from Sherlock.

 “When did he tell you that?” The doctor asked.

 “In the hall, before I punched him. It’s why I was in the hall in the first place. He said he had information.” Sherlock replied.

 “Punched him? Why?” Lestrade asked.

 “He was...he was insinuating himself onto my person.” Sherlock had a faint blush cross his cheeks. “He has ideas towards me.” Lestrade looked at John.

 “ _You_ didn’t punch him for that?” Greg grinned, teasingly.

 “Oh I would have done more than punch, but Sherlock took care of it.” John returned to examining the victims.

"I thought Victor may have been sending the items to Sebastian as he knew that Seb would engage my services in order to discover the stalker. Therefore Victor would have my attention, something he has been seeking for over twelve years. Victor alluded to that last night." Sherlock explained.

"OK...so this Victor is our lead suspect then." Lestrade nodded.

“We are done here Inspector. Cyanide, in the tea, following the reunion. Question Victor Trevor. Come along John.” He snapped the latex gloves off, threw them in a bin and swooshed out of the room.

 “I feel bad about Amanda getting caught up in all this.” John spoke as they stood in the lift on the way down to the lobby. “ Bedtime cup of relaxing tea and then Good Night Vienna.”

 “The tea! John you are right. The tea.” Sherlock had an epiphany, his hands came up and started to form circles in the air, his eyes vibrant, smile on his face. “Of course, the tea is the clue here. John you are a marvel.” Sherlock reached over, took John’s head in both his hands and leaned down to place a hard kiss on John’s mouth. “Perfect John. Perfect logic.” The detective skipped out of the lift and headed towards the street.

 “What did I do?” John was at a loss, confusion all over his face. “Sherlock....wait. What did I say?” he hurried after his fiancé.

 “To the tea shop I think.” Sherlock called back to him over his shoulder as a cab was hailed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written on my iPad, so excuse any mistakes, not as easy as on the keyboard of my Mac. A chapter that bridges the story I think, so wanted to get it done.

Amanda’s tea import business had it’s office above a store on Kensington High Street, a nondescript space that Amanda had furnished with second hand office furniture and refurbished computers. There were three employees; sales, logistics and finance, all in their late twenties, clearly unaware of the death of their employer. Sherlock and John buzzed on arrival and were told to ‘Come Up’ with out question. They ascended the steep staircase and entered the office.

“Need to ask some questions.” Sherlock flashed his ‘Lestrade’ ID badge at the three gathered around a desk. “Investigating a case related to tea imports. “Can we begin with you?” He asked the male employee with a captivating smile. The man nodded and led the the way to his desk, gesturing for Sherlock and John to sit.

 “Your tea is imported exclusively from India?” Sherlock began.

 “Yes the Donnithorpe Company, they have plantations there, although they are British owned.” The man replied.  “They offer several blends of premium black teas. We have a contract with a seasoning and package plant in Milton Keynes, they receive the imported bulk tea, season the different blends and package it for us. Then we warehouse it in Slough, from there we send it to our buyers across the UK.” 

 “Who handles the negotiations with Donnithorpe?” John was taking notes.

 “Amanda mainly, well if it’s anything of any importance.” The employee responded. “She mainly talks to a man called James Armitage.”

 “Has there been any problems recently with the flow of the product from the supplier in India?” Sherlock gave a questioning look at the young man.

 “No, like clock work. No issues.”

 “She did say that a solicitor had called her several weeks ago asking if she was sending payment to the UK Donnithorpe account or one in India.” One of the two female employees had been listening and piped up the information. “We always send payment to India, to Amitage. So may be there was something fishy there. We never heard any more.”

 “Thank you. You have both been most enlightening.” Sherlock stood. John flipped his notebook shut and prepared to leave. “Our colleagues will in touch. Good day. Come along John.”

The two men left the office and found a small cafe a block away where John ordered lunch and Sherlock settled for coffee.

 “Victor may have been embezzling funds from his father’s business. Easily enough to have clients pay him via a bank in India, the parent company in England hears nothing of the transaction. It could be a lead on a motive for killing Amanda. She may have suspected his fraud.” Sherlock was checking his texts.

“But why send the weird items to Sebastian? Or kill him? There must be more to this.” John finished his cumberland sausage.

“Lestrade wants us back at his office. He must have located Victor.” 

“Why do we have to be there? Less I see of Victor bloody Trevor the better.”

“Not sure. Lets head over and see what the good Detective Inspector requires.”

 

******

 Lestrade was at his desk looking at CCTV footage when Sherlock and John arrived. He looked up at them and snorted in reproach. “What the hell were you two up to last night? Just scanning this footage and I see you involved in two separate fights at the Gallery do. First it’s John subduing a man to his knees, next it’s Sherlock punching the hell out of a guy in a hallway. Care to explain?”

 “First incident was John defending my honor, I was terribly insulted. Second was when I put Victor Trevor in his place for accosting me.” Sherlock stood with his back to the room looking out of the office window.

 “And the third incident? Of you entering Sebastian and Amanda's flat at one in the morning? Care to enlighten me on that?” Lestrade had the event on his monitor. The detective and doctor looked at each other with surprise, than went to view the monitor.

 A tall, thin, dark curly haired man entered the lobby of Sebastian’s block of flats, ascended in the lift, used a key kit to enter Sebastian’s flat and then fifteen minutes later left the flat and exited the building. 

 “If I hadn’t been with you all night I would think that was you Sherlock.” John was aghast at the man on the screen. “ ** _I_** would think that was you.”

 “The time is wrong. You have me punching Victor at twelve forty three. There is no way I could have physically been at Sebastian’s flat at one.” Sherlock was incredulous. ‘This man does resemble me, but his clothes and comportment are wrong.”

 “Yeah, your right, but maybe you altered the time stamp on the footage?” Lestrade looked at Sherlock. “Wore old clothes and changed your walk.”

 “He was with me Greg, the entire night. I know we hailed a cab home at just after one, there will be evidence of that at the cab company. Then we went to bed. Yes, together, so I know exactly where he was all night.” John defended vehemently.

 “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I believe you.” Greg smiled. ”Just wanted to hear what you had to say for yourselves. Someone wants us to think that was Sherlock, entering the flat, leaving the poison and therefore a suspect in the killings. Wonder where they got a look alike? Thought you were the only one that looks like....this.” Lestrade gestured with his hands to Sherlock’s body.

 “Have you located Victor Trevor?” Sherlock asked.

 “Yes, he is in an interrogation room, Donovan is in with him now, seeing what shakes loose.”

“Think he hired the look alike?” John asked Sherlock.

“Not sure. Can we listen in on his interview?” Sherlock looked at Greg.

“More than my jobs worth pal. But you can have the transcript. I’ll email it over once it’s done.” 

“Make sure Donovan asks about the stalking of Sebastian.” The detective sighed; ‘this case is becoming tedious.”

 

******

“Why would anyone hire a look alike to frame me. I was at an event, had witnesses, clearly surveillance cameras around to catch my every move; it is ridiculous to think I could not establish an alibi.” Sherlock was in bed, on his side, watching as John undressed and engaged in his bedtime routine.

 “Maybe the look alike wasn’t hired. Maybe the killer just randomly looks like you.” John climbed into bed and faced his love. “Spooky, but maybe a coincidence?”

 “Do other people look like me?” 

 “I met a bloke once, he bore a strong resemblance to you.” John recalled. “It was when you were gone and I thought you were de....well gone permanently. I was missing you so badly, I actually chatted the guy up. Got as far as inviting him back to the flat. Foolishly thought I could pretend he was you for an hour or two.”

 “Did you have sex with him?” Sherlock demanded, looking shocked.

 “No. No..I came to my senses. He was yammering on about football, and I realized he wasn’t you. Nothing like you. So I sent him on his way. Fact is, it made me understand that I love and want _you._..the inner you, _the real you_. It wouldn’t matter what you looked like, I love you.” John reached out and touched Sherlock’s face. “Of course I am not complaining that you come in a very nice package.”

 “Tell me how beautiful I am.” Sherlock’s vanity pleaded. He moved in to attach himself to John, wrapping long limbs around the doctor.

 “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. You are stunningly gorgeous.” John knew Sherlock loved to hear this. John nuzzled into his love’s long and inviting neck, accentuating each word with a kiss. “I could never substitute you.”

 Sherlock stilled. He pulled away slightly and looked at John a revelation forming. “No. But maybe someone else could. Someone that was in love with me years ago, someone that obviously still has feelings for me.”

 “Victor.” John stated.

 “What if the look alike is not a hired killer. Maybe an accomplice. His resemblance to me due to an obsession of his lover, Victor Trevor.”

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Lestrade.” Sherlock was calling Greg. “Look for a man named James Armitage, may have entered the country with Trevor, or may be a few months before. He is a known associate of Trevor’s in India, he may be the man that looks like me.”

 “How do you know this?” Lestrade had been woken from sleep. He struggled to switch the bedside lamp on.

 “Who is it?” Molly asked, waking beside her husband in the bed. “I bet it’s Sherlock. It’s Sherlock isn’t it? At this time of night, it has to be.”

 “Tell Molly to shut up.” Sherlock could hear her.

 “Hey, watch it. You woke her up.” Lestrade defended.

 “I know James Armitage was working with Trevor in India, I think that Victor with his obsession for me, may have procured a lover that resembles me.” The detective explained. “Did Trevor admit to the stalking?”

 “Did he bloody hell!!! He denied everything, including having a burning desire for you. Had his solicitor come in and the questioning went no where.” Greg patted Molly on the shoulder and smiled. “It’s OK. Go back to sleep sweetie.”

 “It’s not OK and I am not your sweetie.” Sherlock was terse.

 “Did Greg call you sweetie?” John was concerned. “Why? Is he joking?”

 “I am talking to my bride, Molly. She is the only sweetie I have. Despite the fact that you seem to think everyone has crushes on you.” Lestrade retorted.

 “Victor Trevor does!” The detective insisted. “Find James Armitage, if he looks like me he is the killer.” Sherlock disconnected.

 

******

 

Morning dawned dull and damp in London. Sherlock was up early and on his laptop when John rose and began breakfast preparations.

“Any new developments?” The doctor came up behind the detective and kissed his curls.

“Several. Look at these.” Sherlock flipped open the Facebook page of James Armitage, where copious photos showed he and Victor together.

“Oh God. It’s like Victor is with _you_.” John stared. “Armitage even has your bone structure.”

“I’ve sent the photos over to Lestrade. Armitage is probably with Victor somewhere.”

“It is just too weird. To think that Victor has been living all these years with a replica of a man he can’t have. It’s tragic and perverse.” John went back to make breakfast.

“I am going over to St Bart’s. Want to be present for the post-mortem on Amanda and Sebastian. Molly is in charge of them. Shall be home this afternoon.” Sherlock had closed his lap top and was pulling on his coat. “You should pick up the paperwork from the Registry Office, get it started.”

John popped his head out of the kitchen. “Oh, right. Will do. Fifteen day wait. Not much time to plan anything.”

“What’s to plan. It’s just us signing papers to officially unite.” Sherlock scoffed.

“Plans Sherlock. There will be plans. We will discuss them tonight.” John had his serious face on. “Enjoy the post-mortems.”

 Sherlock hailed a cab outside Speedy’s and directed the cabbie to St Bart’s. He sat back in his seat. ‘ _I should plan the wedding as a surprise for John. Perfect, perfect John. He thought of  midnight at Faraday’s grave. Just perfect. No, John will plan the wedding anyway. However...a honeymoon. He would never expect me to plan that. Make sure the clinic doesn’t call him with work. Maybe go away as soon as the wedding is over. Where? Oh, he’ll fret about the cost now that Sebastian’s fee won’t be coming in. Must ask Mycroft to transfer thirty grand into our account, tell John that  Sebastian set it up to pay before he died. Yes. Then John will accept a lavish honeymoon. Where? Think, think. Where would John love?”_ Lost to his thoughts, Sherlock was shocked when the cab stopped outside of Bart’s. He alighted and paid, then walked around to a delivery entrance passage way; it was a shortcut he always utilized. As he strode up the cobblestones he glanced and checked his reflection in a door, immediately realizing it was not a door nor was it his reflection.

 James Armitage used the seconds of surprise to be on the detective and a hypodermic needle was inserted into Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock grabbed for Armitage’s coat to spin himself around but the drug was fast acting and he sunk to his knees. Consciousness left him, as he fell into a sea of black.

 

******

Nausea and dizziness were the overwhelming sensations as Sherlock emerged from the drug. He could feel the cold floor beneath him and the ties to his wrists and feet, he smelt musty air, damp basement he thought. Opening his eyes he looked around the room, he was alone, his mind immediately going to escape plans. James Armitage then walked into the room.

“My, you are a handsome man.” Sherlock attempted a grin. “Not many like you around.”

“I will be unique in a few minutes. Wanted you awake for the grand finale.” The man had brought a large knife with him, he was wielding it as he spoke.

“Oh please, don’t be so boring. You’re going to kill me! Ohh, I’m terrified! “ Sherlock laughed. “Many have tried, and one actually succeeded, well... in a round about way. Can you at lease aim for originality?”

“How many tried to take on your life after they had killed you? That’s the plan, I walk into your life. No body knows you are dead. First I break your boyfriend’s heart, maybe by sleeping around, insulting him, dismissing him.”

“The insults and the dismissiveness will feel normal for John, won’t phase him, he may react badly to the sleeping around.” Sherlock considered John’s reactions. ‘Yes, may kill all the poor buggers that you bugger.”

“Then Sherlock Holmes finally allows Victor Trevor to become his lover.” Armitage smiled.

“Arrh, this is what it is all about. You are tired of being a substitute for me. So you intend to become me. Tell me what is the chemical component of...here’s an easy one; salt?” Sherlock was sarcastic in tone. “No? Then tell me what sodium hypochlorite solution is commonly called?” Armitage stared at the detective, realization apparent on his face. “Oh dear, didn’t consider that in your plans? Idiot. You will not fool my fiancé for ten seconds, and you will not last _one_ second with my brother. This is a farce. I am more than my body, you cannot become me.”

“I only need one person to think it; Victor Trevor, and he will be more than willing. He _needs_ me to be you.” Armitage pulled his resolve around himself. “Enough.” 

He approached Sherlock, who was still sitting on the floor, hands and ankles tied. 

In a sudden move, the detective kicked at the assailants legs with his feet, knocking him off balance. As Armitage stumbled, he dropped the weapon and it went sliding across the concrete floor. Sherlock rocked backwards to gain momentum and raised both his legs, he then brought them down on the man’s head, effectively knocking him flat onto the floor, Amrmitage’s head meeting the concrete hard. Rolling his body across to lie on top of Amrmitage, Sherlock grabbed the other mans hair in his teeth, raising the head up and then slamming it back to the floor. Armitage was out cold. It had taken four seconds.

 “Tedious.” Sherlock huffed, attempting to get his breath back. He rolled off the unconscious man and across to the knife. It took three minutes to position the blade in order to cut the ties on his wrist, he then cut the ties on his ankles. The detective stood, rearranged his disheveled clothes, and put the knife in his belt. The cable tie gun that Armitage had used to bind the detective’s wrists and ankles lay in a corner of the room, Sherlock took it and used it to secure Armitage. Sherlock’s phone was also in the corner, as where the contents of his pockets. Sherlock retrieved his items. He checked his GPS location on his phone, he apparently was in a house in St John’s Wood. One more look at Armitage and Sherlock left the room, climbing the basement stairs to enter a plush and well appointed hallway. As he opened the front door to leave the property he came face to face with Victor who was arriving with groceries in hand.

 Victor Trevor momentarily thought he was looking at Armitage. 

“Going out? I thought we...” He realized it was Sherlock. “What are you doing here?” He blanched.

 “Your doppleganger abducted me. Wanted to assume my identity. He is unconscious in the basement.” Sherlock pushed past him. “The police will be here shortly. Don’t try and flee, very undignified.” He kept on walking out of the driveway. Victor stood in stunned silence watching him go.

 Sherlock called Lestrade: “You will find James Armitage in at 309 Elm Tree Road, St John’s Wood. He is your murderer. He also kidnapped me, and intended to murder me. So add that to the charges.” 

 “You OK?”

 “Fine. Brief tussle. Victor Trevor is also at that address. He did not know about Armitage.”

 “Is John with you?”

 “No. No need to bother him, it’s sorted. Will fill in the gaps when you need me to.” Sherlock disconnected. He hailed a cab; St Bart’s. He was late for a post-mortem. 

 

**** 

 

“I have the paperwork.” John called as Sherlock entered 221B later that day. “Need to think of who we ask to be witness.”

 “Hello.” Sherlock came across the living room, bent down and kissed John full on the lips. They smiled at one another as they broke apart. Sherlock went to hang his coat on the hook behind the door. “They arrested Armitage.”

 “Really? They found him! Trevor?” John was pleased.

 “Questioning him. He was unaware of Armitage’s actions. Culpable for them in the abstract, but oblivious in the outcome. James Armitage was a man being used in an obscene manner, changed into someone else for the sole purpose of another’s obsession. He cracked under the strain. He was in England on business for Donnithorpe, alone, met with Amanda to discuss tea import and consequently met Sebastian. He recalled Victor telling him about Sebastian, that Victor had taken items from Seb at uni and had them stored; he began returning them one by one. More out of jealousy that Victor had trophies than in a plan against Sebastian.”

 “Trophies? What meaning did those weird, creepy items have for Victor Trevor?’ John interrupted.

 “Each one held a memory. Each of those items reminded him of sarcastic and demeaning remarks I managed to score against Sebastian in our time at uni. They represented ‘wins’ against the bully, Victor took them as trophies.”

 “Even the cat?”

 “Especially the cat. Victor went to school with Sebastian, in the summer prior to starting uni, Victor stayed at the Sebastian’s family estate. Victor had managed to get an insult in about the cat, evidently it was very cutting, it was Victor’s only triumph. Hence the corpse of the cat.”

 “Armitage made death threats to Sebastian.” 

 “Added effect, throw Sebastian off.

 “So then Sebastian involves you.” John prompted.

 “Yes, and Armitage sees a way to finally be free of playing Sherlock Holmes for Victor Trevor’s amusement. Kill me, step into my shoes. Reorganize my life and hey presto...Victor gets exactly what he wants; me. Armitage didn’t think it through, low IQ, would never have been able to sustain my identity.”

 “Why kill Sebastian and Amanda?”

 “Donnithorpe UK had become suspicious of embezzlement going on in India. They had questioned Amanda. Armitage was stealing from the company, so he killed Amanda. Sebastian was just collateral damage.” The detective had come to rest in his armchair. 

 “Amazing. You figured it all out. Amitage was convoluted, sad and sick.” John shook his head

“You need my signature?” Sherlock cocked his eyebrow and held out a hand. John took a second to comprehend that the subject had been changed.

 “Oh yeah.” He handed the civil partnership papers to his fiancé. “I was thinking Mycroft and Mrs Hudson, for the witnesses.”

 “Yes, yes fine.” Sherlock was signing the documents.

 “A quick lunch afterwards at Angelos? Invite Greg and Molly. Maybe Stamford?”

 “Fine, good.” Sherlock was curt. He handed the paperwork back to John and opened his lap top. 

 “Right then. I will file the paperwork and set the date and time. Little fuss, and then on with the rest of our lives.”

 ****

 The spray from the Aegean was coating their hair like tiny diamonds, sparkling in the bright sunlight, as the speed boat flew over the azure water. Sherlock was piloting the boat, John beside him. The detective could see his own reflection in John’s Ray Ban sunglasses, he noted that his reflection looked relaxed and happy. ‘ _That is me, on honeymoon, married, in love and loved in return.’_ He thought and smiled. 

 John looked at his love; Sherlock’s hair windblown and gloriously abundant in a chocolate brown halo of curls, tanned skin, cotton casual clothing revealing a muscular chest and arms beneath the thin fabric, eyes hidden by sunglasses, ears busy with earphones playing music from an iPod located in the detectives pocket. Long elegant hands holding the wheel of the boat and displaying a titanium wedding band on the third finger left hand. ‘ _This_ ’ John thought ‘i _s happiness. This is my life, how did this miracle happen? I have him.’_

 The surrounding sea was dotted with luxurious yachts, speed boats and an occassional fishing vessel. The Greek coast was white and stark in the sun, the sky blue without a cloud, the sea turquoise and calm. On a large yacht, named The Gloria Scott, several hundred yards away from the honeymooners speed boat, on the top deck, dressed all in white, his blonde hair pulled into a pony tail; was Victor Trevor. He was using binoculars to follow the progression of the  speedboat carrying John and Sherlock.

 

 *****

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a sequel but not sure when. Work crazy for rest of month. But I will return to this, we need more BAMF John with wicked Victor Trevor. My mental picture of Victor is Chris Hemsworth in all his Thor goodness.


End file.
